


Bedside Manner

by toesohnoes



Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: Illnesses, M/M, Pre-Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky struggles to hold himself together after Steve is admitted to hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedside Manner

**Author's Note:**

> Written at my [Tumblr](http://toestastegood-fic.tumblr.com/post/23743629589/cold-winter-air-attacks-bucky-once-he-exits-the).

Cold winter air attacks Bucky once he exits the hospital, but it’s good to have something to clear his head - anything that helps to banish the haunting image of Steve looking small and vulnerable in a hospital bed, paler than usual. It isn’t the first time he’s gotten sick. Bucky knows that it won’t be the last time either.

He won’t allow himself to even consider the possibility of Steve not pulling through the illness. Steve has always been a sickly guy, but he’s got the kind of spirit and courage that much larger men can only dream about. He’s a hero in a victim’s body. Heroes don’t die from viruses. They get to live into a peaceful old age.

Bucky wipes his hand over his face, brushing away tears that he won’t otherwise acknowledge. Just this morning, he and Steve had been joking around and eating breakfast tomorrow. Maybe there had been a cough or two that Steve had shrugged off, but it had been nothing that had seemed at all significant. Nothing that should have been life-threatening.

As the day had worn on, Steve had started to get worse and worse. Bucky recognised the signs from the last time he had had a scare like that, but Steve was too stubborn and too defiant to accept any help or even admit that he had a problem. Sometimes Bucky was left with the intense desire to throttle the stupid kid.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and tries not to allow himself to wonder if things might have been better if he had managed to convince Steve to go to see a doctor straight away. At the very least, he wouldn’t have had to suffer through seeing Steve collapsing to the floor in the middle of their shared apartment.

He looks up to the sky, with the sun pale and wan, and breathes in as deeply as he can. The cold invades his lungs like an attacking virus, stealing his very breath. He brushes a few more stray tears from his face and ignores the questioning glances from passers-by. He’s a grown man crying in front of a hospital. What the fuck do they think is the reason for it?

Swallowing convulsively, he manages to get control of himself:

Everything is fine. Steve isn’t in good shape right now, but Bucky got him to a doctor as quickly as he could. He’s going to be on his feet again in no time at all, picking fights he can’t win and needing Bucky’s help to open jam jars and reach the top shelf.

It’s times like this that make Bucky realise how much his life has morphed to fit around Steve. Every single second of his day is sculpted towards their shared comfort, whether it’s working for a living or picking out films for them to go and see together. Steve isn’t just part of Bucky’s life. He’s the whole thing.

And Bucky’s got to say that that is the most terrifying thing of all.

He breathes in as deeply as he can and swallows until he feels like he’s in control once more. Not a victim to his emotions, he is a responsible adult and he’s got to be the strong one out of the pair of them. That’s what Steve needs from him right now.

He gathers himself together and walks back inside the hospital, ready to take up his customary seat by Steve’s side. By the time Steve wakes up, bleary but so much better than he was, Bucky is once more strong enough to grin down at him and tease him about having the nurses fawning over him.

He doesn’t have to tell Steve how worried he’s been. The kind, intelligent sympathy in Steve’s sick eyes says that he already knows.


End file.
